


two birds, blue birds

by passive_and_aggressive



Series: Blue [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Other, Recovery, Sort of? - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-06-29 14:31:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15731343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/passive_and_aggressive/pseuds/passive_and_aggressive
Summary: Connor recovers, Nines reflects, and they start down the path of closure.





	two birds, blue birds

_It had stormed the night before— harsh summer rain and winds had whipped branches into the streets and through windows. Their home had been spared the worst of the damage with just a few shingles that needed to be repaired, and under the unrelenting summer heat they worked together to fix the shingles before their mother came home._

_She didn’t like it when they made too much noise._

_“It’s so hot,” Connor sighed, wiping sweat off his brow. Nines didn’t look up from the damaged shingle he was cutting._

_“Mmm. It’s actually not that bad, Con, it’s just your asthma doesn’t agree with the humidity.” After cutting the damaged section away with surgical precision, he looked up at his older brother. Despite their young age of a mere twelve, Nines was already a stoic, serious child. “Do you need to take a break?”_

_Connor laughed. “No, you worrywart, I’m fine.”_

_Nines didn’t say anything, rolling his eyes and continuing his meticulous work. Connor, by contrast, had paused with a frown on his face. Nines didn’t stop what he was doing, but he did grow quieter._

_And then he heard it: faint, weak birdsong. When Connor stood up to investigate, Nines followed— half out of curiosity and half out of need to keep his stupid older brother from toppling off the roof._

_The source of the noise was a mess of sticks and mangled feathers. Connor scrambled down the ladder to rush to the fallen nest, but Nines followed more slowly, watching Connor with wary eyes. It seemed as though the nest had fallen down when the branches it was nestled between broke off in the storm, and the result was a mess of shattered eggshells and things Nines didn’t want to look at. Still, he kept a straight face as Connor’s hand flew to his mouth in horror._

_“Oh no, oh no…” He knelt down and carefully shifted the remains of the nest out of the way, revealing the source of the noise: two baby birds had survived the fall, more or less unscathed. They were barely anything more than wrinkled lumps of skin and peach fuzz, but Nines caught Connor’s wrist before he could pick them up._

_“Wait a minute, Con. What if we aren’t supposed to pick them up?”_

_Connor seemed upset at the very idea of what Nines was insinuating. “We aren’t going to just_ leave _them here! Nines, we have to take them inside! You know Mrs. Deckart keeps cats— mean old cats!”_

_Mrs. Deckart was their kindly old neighbor. Nines liked her well enough, but he would admit, her cats terrified him. And he loved cats. There was just something about her mangy old ones that were downright mean. More than the cats, though, Connor knew Nines could never resist the big, brown puppy-eyed look currently aimed right for his soul._

_Nines sighed. “Mom’s going to be mad, so we can’t let her see them, got it?’_

_She would figure it out eventually. She always did, And when she did, they were in for one hell of a beating— but the arms that snaked around Nines’ neck were already worth the bruises to come. “All right! Nines, you’re the best!”_

_“I’m too soft on you, Con,” Nines muttered sufferingly, and Connor laughed._

 

* * *

 

 

“Oh, come on,” Connor complained, stretching out on Nines’ couch petulantly. “I know I’m on medical leave, but I’m still an officer. You aren’t _technically_ violating any rules by filling me in on your case.”

“Connor.” Nines’ voice was firm as he closed down the tablet that had the information he’d been reviewing with Gavin at the dining table. “We already talked about this. No work until your shoulder heals and you’re done with your therapy.”

“Yeah, I know, but I’ve been making really good progress with my therapist! And I’m going stir crazy, Nines. I have so much free time I don’t know what to _do_ with it!” Connor pleaded, itching at his spiderweb-esque cast that held his arm and shoulder into place.

Gavin almost looked like he pitied him. “Why don’t you go see Markus or something? Didn’t Simon invite you over for coffee today?”

“Yes, but…” Connor trailed off. “I don’t know. I just feel really restless today. I think it’s the pills.” He sighed. “Plus, I feel sort of out of place in that fancy house, you know?”

Immediately, Nines’ eyes had shot to Connor’s relaxed form before slowly drifting to rest on one of his cabinets. Gavin knew it was the one that held the spare bottles with his brother’s name; the antidepressants and the mood stabilizers he was being weaned off of as his therapy progressed.

“Con, you did take your medicine today, didn’t you?” He asked, with too much well-intentioned caution. Connor scowled at the sound.

“I did, Nines. I promised you I would take them and I will.” Connor’s voice had taken on an edge that Nines didn’t like, but he caved, unwilling to push the fragile relationship with his brother he’d just begun to build again. “If I was… feeling like that again, I’d talk to you. But I’m okay. We’re okay. Today is a good day.”

“Okay,” Nines agreed, though he still made a note to keep his eye on Connor a bit more closely.  Connor let it drop, and Gavin saw his opportunity.

“Y’know, Connor, I’m like ninety percent sure that Traci was going to be at Markus’ today, talking about android rights with him. She does a lot with the red light district’s android-removal. You should go see her.”

“Traci?” Connor perked up at that, and Nines gave a soft smile. “Well, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to pop by. Coffee does sound pretty nice.”

“If you’re going to come back late, let Hank know,” Gavin reminded. “Old fucker hovers like a helicopter parent. Don’t scare him again, alright?”

“I know. I won’t,” Connor promised, and with a wave, Nines and Gavin watched him depart from the apartment.

For awhile, it was silent. Not an uncomfortable, or awkward silence, but Gavin observed Nines cautiously. In the end, the android commented, “He’s getting better, you know. You don’t have to worry so much.”

“I know,” Nines agreed, but his expression said otherwise. “I just don’t want to lose him again. I _can’t_ lose him again, Gavin.”

“And you won’t, Nines. But you’re not his protector. Connor is an adult. Give him space.” Gavin’s hand lightly brushed over Nines’ own before unlocking the tablet and opening the case file up once more. It was past the time that the human should have eaten lunch, but Gavin knew that with his current mood Nines would just pick at his food and it would go to waste. It was better to funnel Nines’ worry into his workaholic nature. “Let’s get back to work. Double homicides don’t solve themselves.”

“...the fact that you’re trying to distract me with murder is unsettling,” Nines sighed. “But you’re right. Let’s get back to work.”

 

* * *

 

_One of the baby birds was a healthy bird, with the beginnings of real feathers and an eagerness to explore it’s new surroundings on short legs. The other was a tiny thing, even for a fledgling, with a wing that had been clearly broken in the fall. It was sickly and rarely moved, and Nines was certain that it wouldn’t survive. By the second day they’d taken the birds in, the difference between the two nestmates was startling._

_“Con, maybe it’s best to just put it out of its misery,” Nines suggested softly, watching his brother try to coax more of the mush of food from a large eyedropper into the bird’s mouth. It barely gave a chirp of a response, refusing to take any of the offered food._

_Connor looked unusually angry at the suggestion, and Nines held up his free hand placatingly. The healthier bird was nestled in a bundle of blankets in his other hand. “Nines! How could you even say something like that?!”_

_“I don’t mean we go cut it’s head off, Con,” Nines was quick to amend. “I just mean, maybe it would be better if we put it back. It won’t eat, won’t move, won’t even chirp like this one does.” He paused, and the look on Connor’s face made shame build in his stomach, but Nines continued on regardless. “Maybe… maybe it would be better if we put it back in the tree and let nature take its course.”_

_“That’s_ **_horrible!”_ ** _Connor was so angry that his eyes shone, and Nines winced. “Nines, that— that’s not right! We aren’t going to let it_ **_die_ ** _when we can save it!”_

_“Con, I didn’t mean—”_

_“I don’t care what you meant, that’s what you said!” Connor turned his back on Nines and gently scooped up the weaker bird, moving to his bed indignantly. Nines’ chest stung; they normally slept on the same bed. If Connor had decided to sleep alone, then Nines had really hurt him._

_Nines hated it when they argued. He hesitated, before slowly approaching Connor, reaching a hand out and beginning an apology when a crash from the living room made them both jump._

_“What the_ **_fuck_ ** _is all that noise?!” Her voice floated through the thin walls and the old door, and Nines felt his heart skip a beat. “You ungrateful little bastards, waking me up when I’ve been working hard all_ **_day_ ** _just to feed your asses—!”_

_Her voice was getting closer, and Nines placed the healthier bird, still bundled in blankets, in Connor’s lap. With a quiet, “Stay here,” Nines quickly left the room before Connor could get a word in edgewise._

_Connor could hear Nines’ soft apology, the promise of ‘we won’t do it again, mom, I promise’, and he already knew the outcome. The door shut behind him, but it did nothing to muffle the noise of the sharp slap that followed afterwards. Connor flinched._

_When Nines returned, with a bloodied noise and a red handprint glowing on his cheek, Connor wordlessly climbed into his bed, the argument forgotten. Nines didn’t seem bothered by the injuries, pressing a tissue to his nose with a silent shrug, but Connor knew they still stung. Nines just preferred not to show it._

_Nines was always the brave one. Even now, Connor was too afraid to shut the lights off to sleep at night. Nines always did it for him, once Connor had fallen asleep. The younger twin had never had silly fears like that— he’d always been brave and strong, never afraid of the monster under the bed or the shadows in the closets._

_He wasn’t afraid of imaginary creatures because he knew the real monster was just behind their door._

 

* * *

 

“They don’t play around with physical therapy,” Connor praised, showing off his cast-free arm with glee. “Watch this! Hank, catch this and toss it back!” ‘This’ was a yellow stress ball with a smiley face crudely drawn on it. Hank smiled at the antics, indulging Connor and calibrating his tosses to be light and gentle.

“Yeah, kid, I guess they don’t.”

“You’re going easy on me,” Connor accused, but his smile showed no offense. “You know what this means, right?”

Of course he did. Connor rarely talked about anything else. But Hank chose to humor him further, with an inquiry of, “No, what?”

“Ha- _ank,_ I talk about this all the time! It means Amanda will clear my medical leave!” Setting the stress ball down, Connor’s excitement seemed to leech into the air. Hank could practically taste it. _“It means_ I can go back to work!”

This Connor, full of energy and cheer, was so drastically different than the alcoholic, depressed man Hank had met in a bar so long ago. The house was clean and maintained, and his ratty sweatshirts that reeked of alcohol and smoke had been exchanged for semi-formal wear and skinny jeans. It was almost hard to believe that they were the same person.

The resemblance to Nines was much more easily seen now. Hank liked this Connor better— and if the way that Sumo cheerfully chewed on the discarded stress ball and pawed at the human to throw the ball, it wasn’t just Hank that felt that way.

“Ahh, guess that was it. Dunno how I forgot, with how much you yap about it,” Hank said, voice laced with mirth, as Connor caved and tossed the stress ball for Sumo to chase. The little dog dove after it, knocking into furniture and scrambling with each bounce. Hank’s laughter mimicked Connor’s own easy bout of cheerful laughs.

Cole’s photo hung on the wall, displayed proudly. Hank knew how hard it had been for Connor to hang that photo back up, rather than leaving it face-down on the table. Emotions were still a new and unsettling experience, hard to define and harder still to put into words, but Hank was becoming quickly familiar with this particular emotion: pride.

 

* * *

 

_Nines let the small bird nip affectionately at his fingers as he put the mealworms on his desk, letting the baby bird chirp softly and peck at the meal. His bird is healthy and it’s feathers are growing in well, though the soft baby-down is still there. He was feeding it before he was going to turn in, homework done and thoroughly exhausted from a long day._

_By the time he had finished changing and moved to climb into bed, he finally realized what seemed so strange: Connor was not in bed already. Connor was still sitting at his half of the desk, homework a rumpled stack of discarded papers pushed to the corner. He was making soft cooing noises, trying to coax the runt to eat._

_It barely moved to refuse the food, and Connor’s eyes seemed to shine. Nines’ chest ached; he knew the path this was headed down. Connor was always a crybaby, and he couldn’t take it if the bird died because he couldn’t get it to eat._

_Nines rested a hand lightly on Connor’s shoulder. “Con, maybe… maybe it’s time to turn in for the night.”_

_“I can’t leave him alone, Nines,” Connor refuted tiredly. “I can’t let him be alone.”_

_His schoolwork was suffering because of the bird. He didn’t sleep to feed the damn thing every two hours, sometimes less. And the bird continued to refuse whatever he offered it. Nines fought the urge to chuck the bird out the window and be done with it._

_“Con, you can’t stay awake all night tonight, too. You have to get some sleep.”_

_“I’ll come to bed in a little bit, Nines,” Connor mumbled tiredly. “I promise. I’ll be there in just a bit.”_

_Connor wouldn’t come to bed. He and Nines both knew this, and they both ignored it. But after Connor had fallen asleep at his desk chair later that night, Nines dragged him to bed anyways, and ignored the dull eyes of the bluebird runt burning holes in his back._

_He could still feel those eyes even after the lights were out and his hands were clenched into Connor’s shirt, tears pricking at his eyes when his thoughts became more and more cluttered, chaotic._

_You can’t save them all you can’t save them all you can’t save them all— he buried his face in Connor's shirt, holding his breath until his eyes dried._

~~_But I can save you._ ~~

 

* * *

 

The loud pounding at his door woke him up, and Nines let out a suffering groan. Gavin’s LED slowly whirred to life as the android sprawled over him began to rouse from standby mode. Nines had half a mind to tell the android to get his ass out of bed and go answer the door, but Nines was at least somewhat dressed and presentable. With a sigh, he shoved the mostly-naked android off and stumbled to the door, eyes half-opened.

He woke up very quickly when he saw his brother, weeping heavily and barely standing on his own two feet. It seemed as though Hank was supporting most of his weight, from the way the old android held him up.

Connor was a very different Connor when he was sober and slowly weaning himself off nicotine. It was as if he’d regained a little bit of the naive, happy spunk he’d had as a child. Nines had almost believed the depressive streak had never happened.

Nines was a fool. He threw open the door and held his arms out for Connor, who threw his arms around Nines without much thought. The reek of whiskey, his brother’s poison of choice, immediately flooded his nose. And he _knew._ His fingers clenched in Connor’s soft sweatshirt and he staggered under his brother’s weight as he lead him further into the apartment, hesitating where to bring him. Gavin watched him silently from the doorframe of the bedroom, looking weary, before the android said, “Take ‘im to the bed. Robot Stick-up-his-ass and I can bunk on the couch for the rest of our standby modes.”

“Thanks, Gav,” Nines muttered, not waiting to hear Hank’s response before he began dragging Connor’s half-conscious body to his bed. Unconsciously, he threw the curtains open along the way to let the moonlight in.

When they were seated on the edge of the bed, Nines’ fingers began to work through the knots in Connor’s hair absentmindedly. Connor’s hair felt dirty, like it was coated in cigarette smoke, but Nines ran his fingers through it anyways, hoping the familiar ministrations would help calm his brother.

It didn’t. Connor’s violent sobs didn’t cease or lessen.

“What’s wrong, Con?” Nines murmured, too gentle. “What happened?”

“I thought I was doing well,” Connor wept. “I thought I was sober and I was getting it together, Nines. But I— _I didn’t!_ _I fell off the wagon already!”_

“That’s not what I asked, Con. What _happened_?” His voice was firm, but soothing.

Connor’s breathing hitched. “Work. Today, it was— it was a bad case, Nines, a _bad case._ And I just had to get it out of my head and I— I didn’t realize where I was until Jimmy was pouring me a drink and I should have stopped but I  _didn't,_ I didn't, I just kept drinking and I,” His voice cracked. “I’m sorry, Nines, _I’m sorry.”_

“Don’t be.” It hurt a little, strung, when he thought about what had happened, but not in a disappointed way. Nines was only disappointed that he hadn’t considered how strong the chance of a relapse might be, but he _should_ have. Connor had been sober for months, but he’d been drinking whiskey like water for _years._ Of course he might relapse. “You’re alright, Con. We’ll get through this. We all have our bad cases. It comes with the job. Having a rough time doesn’t mean you’ve failed, and one night of drinking doesn’t mean you just threw away all your sober months. You took a step back, you didn’t start over. It just means you’re human.”

“I scared Hank again,” Connor wheezed. Nines was torn between going to grab the spare inhaler and staying; in the end, when Connor coughed but his breathing soothed, Nines stayed. “I promised myself I wouldn’t scare him like that again. I didn’t tell him where I was going. I didn’t know where I was going, not until I saw the sign. I just knew I had to get away, get the scene out of my head.”

“You can apologize tomorrow,” Nines assured. “He’ll forgive you. He only worries because he cares about you.”

Connor’s eyes were almost closed now, and Nines eased him down onto the bed, feeling like they were children again as Connor’s fingers hooked around his wrist and he begged, “Please don’t go.” Maybe they’d never really grown out of old habits— just gotten better at suppressing them.

“I would never,” Nines promised, accepting his fate and lying back down. He was tired, anyways, and the couch didn’t have room for another.

It was quiet for a long time after that, and Nines had almost believed Connor was already sleeping.

“‘M sorry,” Connor drowsily whispered, and Nines wasn’t sure who he was apologizing to.

“Me too, Con.”

 

* * *

 

 

_Despite the odds, the little runt survived. Connor coaxed it into eating, kept it clean and warm, nurtured it for weeks— long after a baby bird was supposed to be that small. Long after Nines’ bird had grown soft cobalt blue feathers when the runt only had soft down, Connor was still dutifully caring for the small bird, setting it’s wing with a splint of popsicle sticks and medical tape so it healed right._

_Nines had taken to doing Connor’s homework along with his; they were both ambidextrous, but if Nines wrote with his right hand then it looked remarkably similar to Connor’s right-handed writing. They usually did their homework together anyways._

_Before the birds, anyways. Now, all of Connor’s attention was devoted to the bird. Nines slid a mealworm in his bird’s direction when it gave a soft, tittering chirp. He didn’t notice the way it ruffled it’s tiny wings, shaking the feathers out, not until he heard a rustle of air and felt a new, sudden weight on his shoulder._

_It had flown. But instead of being delighted— Nines knew Connor would be if he were watching— Nines only felt cold dread. It was too similar to downright fear to even be called dread. Plucking the bird from his shoulder, Nines whispered to it, “Stop that, you’re not ready. You aren’t ready to fly away yet. Just stay how you are.”_

_“Did you say something, Nines?” Connor asked, confused. Nines shook his head, holding onto the protesting bird more firmly._

_“No,” Nines rebuffed, the lie falling from his lips before he could help himself. “Need to get your hearing checked, Con?”_

_Connor laughed and stuck his tongue out at Nines childishly, but not even that could make Nines smile with the phantom weight of the bird on his shoulder._

 

* * *

 

With October came uneasiness and a feeling of anxiety Hank couldn’t place. It ate at him, made him irrationally restless, and no matter how much he ran his processors Hank couldn’t fathom why; deviancy or no, the irrational behavior made him horribly frustrated.

 

It clicked when Connor informed him he would be visiting the cemetery with Nines, and Hank’s worry skyrocketed. He wondered if androids could have heart attacks, because with the way his Thirium pump was stuttering, he was pretty sure he was having one.

 

“Are you sure that you don’t want me to come with you?” Hank asked, with the gruff sort of care that Connor had come to expect. But with a soft smile, Connor shook his head.

 

“It’s… something Nines and I have to do alone. Next time, it’ll be a different story. But this will be the first time we’ve gone together, so…”

 

Speaking of the devil, Hank watched as the younger of the Anderson boys walked in, a helmet tucked under an arm and a spare held in his hand. Nines tossed the bike helmet to Connor, who snapped it on with little hesitation. Nines spared a brief glace at his partner, seated at the table and looking unreasonably groggy for being an android, twirling his keys around his finger absently. The pair were unusually silent, exchanging only a tense glance before Nines forced a smile and turned to his brother. “Ready, Con?”

 

“Yeah. Let’s go, Nines.” Connor’s smile was bright, but there was a sad edge to his eyes when he looked at Hank. He seemed oblivious to his brother’s relationship issues, too caught up in the thoughts of the grave he would be visiting all too late. “Sorry, Hank. I promise I’ll introduce you next time. Cole would like that, I think.”

 

“He would,” Nines agreed, with a final side-glance at Gavin, who childishly refused to meet his gaze. “Anyways, let's get going. I want to get there before ten— traffic picks up around then.”

 

“Yeah, okay, I’m coming.” Connor held his arms out and Hank, with a huff of faked irritation, accepted the invitation. He stood over the older Anderson twin by a bit, but the embrace was gentle. As he drew back, Hank ruffled Connor’s hair and pushed him off towards where Nines waited by the door.

 

“Come back safe, both of you! Don’t get into any fuckin’ trouble, you hear me?”

 

“Yeah, dad,” Connor laughed, but with genuine affection.

 

Hank watched the two drive off from the window with worry, eyes trailing them for much longer than a human’s would be able to fathom. Gavin seemed to partake in none of the worry, moving to stretch out on the couch with Blue curled on his lap, flicking through channels absently. The little kitten was making a nest of the blanket spread over Gavin, and he batted her claws away periodically when she got too rough with it. Hank contemplated his options before sitting morosely beside the other android; Blue batted at him briefly before deciding that the blanket was more interesting.

 

But after awhile, Gavin muttered, “I know it’s rough. Humans are so fragile, right? Ain’t like a machine. Can’t bring ‘em back after they shut down. So we worry and worry and _worry,_ but what can we do, really?” The channel-switching was methodical and smooth, stopping only upon reaching some sort of old, two-thousands movie about an old man and...  what seemed to be balloons tied to a house. The irrationality of it nagged somewhere at the back of his mind, but the old cartoon characters tugged on his metaphorical heart strings.

 

Gavin, however, didn’t seem to be paying too much attention to the movie, despite the way that his eyes lingered on the screen. "It's rough knowing that they'll die before us. We just keep on living like we are, in a fucking cycle that never changes, and they just keep going. Humans don't stop for anything. Not even time." He certainly wasn't watching the cheerful movie now, not with the bitter tone that had creeped into his voice. "But they will. They _do._ They’re so fucking fragile, and we can’t always protect them, and I don’t know what to fucking _do_ about it.”

 

With a long-suffering sigh, Gavin buried his face in a pillow. Hank thought that it was a painfully human thing to do, even for a deviant. “Fuck life. Fuck emotions, man I just wanna go back to being a machine. This is too hard.”

 

Hank rolled his eyes. “You’re being too damn dramatic. Look, I get that you want to protect Nines, but the detective is a big boy. He can take care of himself.” Not that he didn’t understand the fear, because he _did._ But Connor wasn’t a child, and as much as Hank fretted, he tried to have faith in his decisions. “I understand with the revolution you might be on edge, but don’t you think that—”

 

“No,” Gavin sighed, wearily. “You don’t understand.”

 

The heavy inflections of his voice had Hank inclined to agree.

  


* * *

  


_The runt of a bird grew stronger in the coming weeks, giving weak flutters of its wings that gradually grew more confident and stable. Connor doted on the bird like it was his very own child, nearly bursting into tears when it hovered a few centimeters in the air._

_And Nines held tighter and tighter to the bird in his hands, fighting the urge to simply clip it’s wings. It would be for the bird’s own good— it was getting too adventurous, too daring. It was getting too independent. Nines could protect it inside their tiny bedroom, but outside the world was cruel. It took and stole precious things, soiled the clean, broke the strong. Nines could protect the bird here, but outside, he had no say in what would happen._

_Because he was still a child himself, after all. He wasn’t Connor— Nines could fend for himself, but he certainly wasn’t strong enough to fight the world, and he didn’t delude himself into thinking he could. But inside this house? He was strong enough for himself, strong enough for Connor— certainly strong enough for these birds._

_“Nines, why are you crying?” Connor asked quietly, concern lacing his voice, a hand coming to rest on Nines’ shoulder gently._

_Nines swiped viciously at his face. He hadn’t realized he had been crying, not until Connor pointed out the wetness on his cheeks. “Nothing. I got some feathers in my eyes, that’s all.”_

_“Are you sure, Nines?” Connor’s eyes scanned his face with evident worry. “It’s going to be okay. Even if your bird hasn’t flown yet, he’ll fly soon!”_

_That wasn’t what Nines was worried about, that was the opposite of what he was worrying about, but he offered Connor a smile anyways. And when he was about to speak, the sound of the front door slamming startled them both._

_Mother was home, and she was a mood. Nines winced at the sound of the door, and Connor’s nails dug into the flesh of Nines’ arm, nearly drawing blood. Nines’ heart hammered painfully in his chest— fightorflightfightorflight flight flight flight_

_“Come ‘ere you little shits!” She snarled, getting worryingly close. Nines stood up and dragged Connor to the closet, but he wasn’t fast enough, and the door slammed open to his horror. A bottle in her hand and bags under her eyes that meant the reason she hadn’t come home in the past three days was because she had drank away the need to sleep. She wasn’t just angry— she was furious._

_At what? What had set her off this time? The house was clean, chores were done, there were no signs she even had children excluding their room— but then, there was never a need to set her off. She never needed a reason to be angry._

_But when she saw the birds clutched in Connor’s hands and her eyes lit with a refreshed anger, Nines knew it was going to be much worse than even the bad nights._

**_Fight?_ **

_And then there was a hand wrapped around his wrist, dragging him away from the closet and towards the window. Dumbfounded, Nines followed, dodging nimbly around their intoxicated mother’s swing. Connor… was taking the lead? Nines watched as his brother took the little runt and whispered something inaudibe to it, tossing it into the outside night air. It fell for a moment before righting itself and beginning to fly; Nines saw it land on a branch not far from the house, chittering brightly._

_The bird in his hands struggled to be free as Nines froze, and Connor panicked._

_“Nines, it’ll be okay! He can do it! Just let him go— he’s got to fly, or she’ll kill him!”_

_But he couldn’t let it go. It wasn’t ready yet, it was too small, it was too weak, it couldn’t survive without him. Nines’ fingers convulsed as his body gave a shuddering heave, frozen by the window._

_He wasn’t ready yet._

_Their mother took a swing, but rather than the fist colliding with Nines as it usually did it struck Connor solidly in the temple. The elder of the twins staggered under the weight of the blow, eyes fluttering._

_“You fucking ingrates! You horrible, horrible children! Why can’t you just fucking be good? Why can’t you just— just fucking disappear!” Her hands reached for Connor’s shirt, but Nines had already tossed the bird out the window. It barely fell at all; with a strong flap of it’s wings, it flew to it’s nestmate in the branches and the birdsong flittered smoothly— not that Nines saw. He had stepped between the hand intended to grasp his brother, shoving Connor safely against the window._

_Their mother slammed him into the wall, knocking him against the desk in the process and sending fiery pain shooting up his body. Connor’s hands tried to pull him away, out of her grasp, but Nines kicked him away with a grimance._

_“Con—_ **_go—”_ **

_“Nines!” Connor, of course, ignored him. When did Connor ever listen to him? His head struck the wall hard, and he saw stars, vision abruptly darkening. She was being too rough tonight— there was something warm trickling down from the side of his head. “Richard!”_

_If Connor had used his name, it was bad enough. Nines rasped, “Con— Con, go, go get Amand—” the hand that grasped his throat cut him off, but Connor understood. A flash of something came across his eyes before he fled through the open window, too quick for their mother to catch._

_“Ugh, you little bastard,” she snarled, dropping him like he’d scalded her. “You ain’t a fucking hero, and now that little snitch is calling the fucking cops.”_

_His ribs ached, but she wouldn’t hurt him too badly with Amanda on her way. She walked the beat tonight, and Connor would be back with her soon._

_They would be okay, and with that knowledge, he let go._

 

* * *

 

“Do you think the flowers are okay, Nines?” Connor asked, fidgeting nervously as Nines tucked the helmets away and double-checked his keys.

Nines spared a glance at him laced with dulled amusement. “Only if you quit clutching them so tightly, Con. You’ll kill the flowers before we even get to the grave.”

“Ah.” He’d had such a grip on the stems that they had begun to crumple. With warm cheeks, Connor loosened his grip and allowed the flowers some leeway once more. “Sorry.”

Nines brushed past him, bumping him lightly as he walked first into the cemetery, as if he could tell that Connor was too afraid to walk first. He probably could. “Don’t be. C’mon. Let’s go see Cole.”

“...yeah.” Connor had never been in the cemetery. The memory of the night of the funeral made him hurt. He’d left Nines to bury their brother alone, and he could never, _ever_ make up for that.

But maybe he could make amends. And he’d start here.

Nines didn’t look at him when Connor sped up to match his pace, to walk side-by-side, but Connor almost thought that there was something like a smile on his lips. The closest Nines ever got to smiling, anyways.

The walk to Cole’s grave was silent, but Connor would never have mistaken it; it was a smaller thing, simplistic and black with Cole’s name, date of birth, and date of death listed in glowing white letters. A modern grave; most had shifted away from the engraved stone graves nowadays. Nines stopped to run his hand along the stone with a heavy-hearted affection, but remained silent.

Connor felt as though his feet were glued to the ground, forcing him to remain in place, staring at the ground and feeling sick. His brother’s body was beneth his feet, and he hadn’t even told him goodbye. His brother— the one he couldn’t save, the one who hadn’t ever really gotten to live, because Connor fucked up negotiations. The night that ended his relationship with Nines, that started his downward spiral.

God, he hated this.

Nines’ voice was so quiet Connor almost missed it. “Head out of the past, Con. Stay in the today. Things have changed, and we can’t help that. But we’re getting better.”

Were they, really? Sometimes Connor wondered. But he smiled at Nines anyways.

“...we’re getting better,” Connor agreed, before kneeling in the grass and taking a deep breath. “Hey, baby brother. It’s been awhile, right?” His eyes were hot and his cheeks wet, but it felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. His laugh was shaky and quickly tapered off. “That’s my fault. I… I’m sorry, I should have come sooner. I’m sorry, Cole. I’m sorry.”

Connor didn’t notice Nines moving away from the stone to kneel next to him until his younger brother’s arm was draped around his shoulders.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Rarely did Nines take that tone anymore— soft, reassuring, as if Connor was a child again. It bordered on patronizing sometimes, no matter Nines’ good intentions, but at the moment, Connor didn’t mind. “And no matter what, Cole would never blame you.”

“I know,” Connor admitted quietly, and somewhere in his mind, he did. He might have been at fault for willfully furthering participation in an investigation that he was emotionally involved in, but it wasn’t really his fault Cole had died. He hadn’t decided to replace the family’s android— it was their father. And he hadn’t made the android go deviant and decide to jump. Somewhere, deep down, he understood this.

And when they left the cemetery later, chests lighter than they'd been in years, Connor thought he heard birdsong.

**Author's Note:**

> I was... unsatisfied with the way this turned out, no matter how many revisions I attempted, and in the end, I decided to go ahead and post it anyways. It will be the last of the series to explicitly focus on the brothers relationship with one another, and the next will actually focus on Chloe, Elijah, and Gavin.
> 
> Nines and Gavin did have a fight (specifically, one dealing with android rights), which is why there was a bit of tension at the end, but that's for another work, and it's why Gavin is so upset about everything.


End file.
